The Downfall of Lord Voldemort
by Birrmagnur
Summary: Professor Sinastra has taken Harry in for the summer. But is it possible for her to protect him while she's working as an undercover Death Eater? Novel length when complete, regular updates. Constructive criticism welcome, no flames please! FSSS
1. A Note to The Reader

**The Downfall of Lord Voldemort**

_by _

_Alaskair _

_Forward_

_A Note to the Reader_

_Dear Sir or Madam,_

_ This story is the account of events preceding the downfall of Lord Voldemort, hence the title. It is told from to PoV of Harry Potter and Florence Sinastra, and takes place after Harry has been at his dear Astronomy Prof's house for a while. Sirius is staying there too. _

_Just so you know, all relationships in this book are **strictly heterosexual**. If you're looking for slash you've come to the wrong place. I find slash disgusting and unnecessary. Remember that Harry Potter was written for kids!_

_Well, now that that's out of the way we can move on. _

_I am almost wholly convinced that the memory in Dumbledore's pensieve of Bertha Jorkins, the slain Ministry witch, was speaking of the relationship between Florence Sinastra and Severus Snape. Recall that she said, "…he hexed me because I had caught him kissing Florence behind the greenhouses…" who else? _

_To be fair, this is a continuation of the noble line of FS/SS fan fiction begun by the talented 'Ms. Snape' of fanfiction.net. She gave me all the encouragement I ever needed to bring the pair together and I am sad to say that 'Sempervirent' was never fininshed—I would have loved to read more than just two chapters._

_Now here's a few notes on Florence's appearance, seeing as we won't have time for it later._

_Florence Sinastra is tall and slender, fit from seasons of Auror, and later, Death-Eater training. She is descended of the Sarens, an ancient and noble wizarding clan. Her eyes are clear and level, of a blue so dark as to be nearly black. She has a full, decided mouth; high cheekbones; and long, straight, hair blacker than jet. It brings out the flush in her creamy skin. As head of Ravenclaw, her wand work is as good, if not better than, that of those of the other Heads of Houses. Florence's wand is rosewood with sterling accents, 13.5 inches and is alive with the magic of her Sareni ancestors. Her inheritance is hidden within it—six dry ounces of cosmic Dust, the stuff that makes us aware. (If you've read **His Dark Materials** you'll know what I'm talking about.)_

_Florence is known for her sharp tongue and sharper mind' her way with potions and words, and her influence. Authors, next time you go to pick characters for your next fic, remember Florence. _

_Sincerely, _

_ Alliyah Sullivan _

_ satrios@hotmail.com _


	2. Prologue

**The Downfall of Lord Voldemort**

_by _

_Alaskair _

_Prologue _

_"Gathering"_

Harry wondered whether he was dreaming. It seemed so real, in places.

_A slender Death-Eater stepped forward to address Lord Voldemort. The circle of his followers had grown since Harry had last seen it—both in size and in power. Mists played around the knees of The Dark Lord and his followers, making Voldemort's glowing red eyes look very creepy indeed._

_She spoke in a clear voice, after he nodded to her, acknowledging her presence._

_"My Lord," The lone figure announced. "I have gained access to the recipe for The Potion of Immortality." She stopped, pausing to see how this pleased her lord. He nodded for her to continue. There was a sharp intake of breath around the circle. Voldemort raised his eyebrows. _

_"Go on," he whispered._

_"I am positive it would work. There is only one setback."_

_The masked face turned once again to face Voldemort. He motioned impatiently for her to go on. _

_"The ceremony calls for the herb vervain. The winds are already more than brisk and I am sorry to say that the plant must be grown outside and it _must_ be harvested in the dark of the moon. I fear we may only have a month or so in which to harvest the plant and prepare the potion: the ceremony has to take place on Beltane._

_There was a terrible, hungry look in Voldemort's red eyes now. _

_"My Lord." A fawning, overly attentive voice that could only belong to Lucius Malfoy issued from a hooded and masked face. He had stepped forward to address The Dark Lord._

_"I could hold an innocent Beltane feast for Ministry members that night. We could split our party into thirds—one to take the party, one to attend the ceremony, and one to strike Hogwarts."_

_"You like this, then?" Voldemort demanded breathlessly. He was excited. After chasing his quarry so long, the end was almost in sight. _

_Lucius' mask shifted as he grinned, and then nodded. _

_"Very well." Voldemort's mouth twisted into an insane grin. He then turned to the first Death-Eater, the woman._

_"Prepare the potion under the supervision of Severus Snape," he commanded, then swung around to face Malfoy. "Hold a Beltane feast for Ministry members, as you proposed. Then we strike."_

_Lucius nodded, and stepped back. _

_The first Death-Eater said, "Your wish is my command my lord, and as always, I obey."_

**The Beginning**

****

A/N – Well? How do you like it?


	3. Sleep

A/N - Everything except SS/FS fan fiction belongs to the lovely, talented, deadline-crashing 

J. K. Rowling. If the next book does indeed have SS/FS pairing in it, blame it on Ms. Snape

I want to thank Siri Dragon for her support. If she wants to Beta this story, I'd love it.

**The Downfall of Lord Voldemort**

by

Satrios

Chapter I

"Sleep"

Harry moaned and sat up in bed. For a moment he couldn't recall where he was. Then he remembered. 

For the summer holidays, he was stationed at Professor Sinastra's house. Sirius was there too, and from what Harry had picked up, his name had been cleared and he didn't fancy staying at Hogwarts all alone over the summer. Dumbledore had been quick to inform Harry that next to Hogwarts, the Sareni Mansion was the safest place to be. 

It was a good life at the Mansion. House elves waited on Harry, the sheets were silk, he had his own room, but best of all, he had _"parents." _

Sirius and Florence, who were apparently old schoolfriends, took care of Harry and every night they would come in and sit with him in their pajamas and tell them stories of Lily and James. 

The digital display alarm clock read 4:30 in glowing red digits that shone out throught the pre-dawn gloom of his spacious chambers. 

Harry swallowed, and grimaced. His mouth was cotton. Deciding he needed a drink of water, Harry headed downstairs. 

Once in the kitchen, he selected a crystal drinking glass. There were definite differences between life at The Burrow, and life at the Sareni Mansion. Here, there was running water and glass windows that provided a stunning view of the Alps; Hogwarts was just down the road. Every room had a theme and a fireplace, not to mention books of magic that Hermione would drown in to the point of suffocation. Professor Sinastra's Mansion, Harry wagered, would make Malfoy's place look very much the skin tent. Versus the Malfoy dungeons, there was a spooky crypt where Florence's ancestors were buried. 

The Sarenis, Harry had been told, originated near what is now France. Florence had shown him pictures of her mother and grandmother, and his Astronomy professor was a very beautiful example, Sirius had pointed out, of a Sareni witch. Florence had blushed and swatted at Sirius with the hand that was not holding the frame. 

Sarenis, for the most part, were Seers and Weather-Workers for the most part, but their main trade had been fine wizarding wares such as Invisibility Cloaks, Obsero-Boxes, staffs, Pensieves, and luxury chess sets, not to mention exotic wands and they were great exporters of exporters of Dreamwater and dragon ivory.

Harry ran crystal clear water into the drinking glass and relished the icy flow of liquid down his throat. The water here was unlike what he had ever tasted, and it slid down like silk. 

Suddenly, Harry saw the front door open. A Death-Eater walked in, peering about. It then spotted him.

Harry felt his sides. His wand was upstairs, on his bedside table. Meanwhile, the Death-Eater drew its wand. Harry crouched against the floor and waited for the impact.

In his mind, he saw a sky-blue net drift over him, and settle lightly over his body.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *          *          *

The net was a sleeping spell. Florence stepped over the dozing Harry, took off the black robes and went straight to bed. Once in her room, she stripped off almost all of her clothes and fell into bed, enjoying the fell of silk on skin. 

She and Severus had planned last night for years, and it had gone beautifully. Voldemort had swallowed the whole thing hook, line and sinker, as had Malfoy. That had been good.

_I told him_, Florence thought, happily. _I told him that plan was a gem!_

While it was true that she and Severus had found The Potion of Immortality, she had found another with it, and that was a recipe for one that hid your emotions. Tonight she had smelled of nothing but excitement, like a wolf closing on its first kill in days, as a good Death-Eater should have.

_Good Lord_, she mused, and snorted with derision. _He thinks I was being sincere, that I like nothing better than pleasing him. Soon he shall know better. Severus and I will avenge Lily and James, and Harry will be safe forever_. 

With those thoughts to comfort her, she leaned back on the pillows and drifted into a blissful sleep. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *          *          *

She was awakened the next morning by Sirius' strangled yell. Florence opened her eyes just in time to see Sirius bound through her open bedroom door.

"Florence," he begged, "Florence, come quick. Harry's out on the kitchen floor. I think it's a sleeping spell but it's been so long since I've used a wand…just come and check, will you? I want you to be there when I wake him."

So she grabbed the sheet, wrapped it about herself, and followed Sirius downstairs.

When they got there, Sirius was waving his phoenix-feather wand over Harry. "Ennerverate."

Florence bent over Harry. 

"Harry," she implored, waving a hand over his face. "Harry? Can you hear me?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *           *          *

"Harry? Harry? Can you hear me?"

Professor Sinastra's clear alto drifted to snag Harry from a strange dream about dragons, summoning him into a half-waking state. He opened one eye.

Meanwhile, Sirius had ran cold water over his hands and was now patting Harry's cheeks. "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey…"

"Really?" Harry mumbled around his tongue. After he sat up and rubbed his fists in his eyes, he decided that he was alive after all.

"I suppose, if you _really_ want eggs and bacon you can ask the elves to make you some," said Sirius, caught off guard.

"Well, then," Florence said, and Harry wondered if he could indeed detect a certain degree of guilt in her smile. "You go get showered and dressed and you can have your "eggs and bakey'," she grinned at Sirius, and he smiled back. 

As Harry passed the sheet-and-boxer clad pair, he frowned. Sirius and Florence, he could tell, were very close. Could this be what his parents would have been like? Well, this had to be the next best thing. Harry sighed. His life didn't need any more complications.

Florence had used the Dursley's fireplace to transport Harry and his belongings to her home. She had shown Vernon and Petunia a picture of her house, and Vernon's face had turned a shade of color not yet documented. Petunia looked insanely jealous and had pouted. 

After Harry had gotten his belongings settled, they had gone shopping. It had been a lot of fun, watching his Astronomy professor and an escaped convict try on the newest muggle fashions. Harry grinned at the memory of Florence and Sirius dressed in matching leather outfits.

Here in the Sareni mansion, Harry had to admit (as he preened in his floor-length mirror) that he looked pretty darn spiff.

And, Harry noted, there were differences between how he was treated at The Burrow, and how he was treated here. 

Florence and Sirius treated Harry like a son, while Mrs. Weasley, or Molly, acted as though Harry were something fragile that might break at any moment. But here, there were no children to play with, although Florence had said that he could invite some of the Weasleys, if he wanted. Harry had told her about Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and she had laughed, and said Fred and George could use her mansion to work on ideas, as long as they cleaned up any mess they made and didn't destroy and of her heirlooms.

It was Friday, and he had invited Ron and Hermione to stay for the weekend.

* * * * * * * * * * * *          *          *          *

**Correspondence, Ron Weasley to Harry Potter**

_July 26, 1995_

_Dear Harry,_

_ How are you doing at the Mansion? Hey, thanks for the invite to the prof's house. Is it really as big as you said in your letter? _

_ Mum hasn't found out about the 1G you donated to Fred and George. If it's o.k., can they come and work on WWW too?_

_ Listen, I asked Dad about the Sarenis and he's jealous that I'll have a stay in the mansion. Ask Sinastra if we can explore the Crypts. I'll bet Mione wants to spend all of our time reading! Well, I'll see you Saturday and if you want anything just use the Floo. Ask the Sinastra to give you an in-depth explanation of how to use it._

_ Ron_

* * * * * * * * * * * * *          *          *

**Correspondence, Hermione Granger to Harry Potter **

_July 24, 1995_

_Dear Harry,_

_ Are you learning much from Professor Sinastra? The Sarenis, from what I've read, are a fascinating bunch. Did you know that there are probably caches of illegal dreamwater stored in the Mansion, and that Professor Sinastra's people are likely to have made your invisibility cloak? I bet if you asked the professor she would give your cloak a going over._

_ Have you practiced much Quidditch for next year? I can't see why they wouldn't hold the regular competition. Also give some thought to who you'd like to be Keeper and Captain._

_ How is Sirius doing? I read in the Prophet that his name's clear and there was an interview with him, and they got the whole story. And it was the truth. Guess who did the interview? Rita Skeeter! She actually made someone look good for once. Do you have any idea why she might do such a thing?_

_ Well, I'll see you and Ron Saturday morning._

_ Love From,_

_ Hermione_

* * * * * * * * * * * * *          *          *

Harry smiled and put his letters away. He had eaten breakfast, and today he would ask Professor Sinastra to give him a tour of the crypts, if she wasn't too busy.

He happily trotted down the soaring marble staircase, and he found Professor Sinastra in the front room, brewing a potion.

Upon noticing Harry, she smiled and waved him over to look into the cauldron. A silvery mixture with hints of rainbow bubbled gently inside.

"What's this?" Harry asked. He had never seen anyone brew a potion for fun before, not counting the unforgettable incident with the Polyjuice potion in his second year.

"It's Invisibility Serum," Professor Sinastra said, stirring the brew with a long-handled spoon. "My people held the monopoly in magical trade. It's mainly used for industry, but I've got the home recipe. What it does is it…ah, how do I put this…if you soak something in it, the thing becomes invisible. Take for example, a broomstick. No one will be able to see it. But if an individual drinks a cup of the same batch of the potion as what you dipped the broom in, then that individual will be able to see the broomstick, and use it. The person can decide whether they want to be visible when they ride the broom, you'll learn about that in sixth year."

"Does Snape have the recipe?" Harry asked. He was curious. Anyone could be creeping around unseen. Harry promptly forgot his own adventures under his Invisibility Cloak.

"Severus?" she looked surprised. "Probably not. Like I said, this is mainly used for industry, to manufacture things. Oh, and that would be _Professor_ Snape to you."

She paused, then added thoughtfully, "Would you like to know how to make it? I could teach you."

Harry shuddered playfully. "Save that for Hermione. She'll read the entire contents of your house and then bombard you with questions."

Florence was grinning now. "That Hermione…she's a topic of discussion in the teacher's lounge."

"What do they say?" Harry asked.

"Well, if you haven't noticed, whenever Hermione gets a perfect score, any of us will knock a few points off on account of her being "an insufferable know-it-all" and she'll wander after us teachers asking what she missed. We've got bets on when she'll realize _why_ we're taking points off her grade."

Harry smiled. Saturday was bound to be interesting.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *          *          *

**Up Next: Crypt**

****

****

A/N – Well? How did you like it? R/R, _please!_ It's just considerate. E-mail me if you have any questions, I _will _answer!


	4. Arrival

A/N – Do any of you realize that a **_merlin_** is a small, fast bird of prey? Compared to a Phoenix, Order of Merlin and Order of the Phoenix are not so different, you see? Give credit to Alliyah, I figured it out…anyway, have a good time with this chapter. See what you can't dig up from what _I've_ inferred about the future of the Harry Potter series. Does anyone have dates for the release of the 5th book? E-mail me if you need anything.

****

**The Downfall of Lord Voldemort**

_by _

_Satrios _

_Chapter II_

_"Arrival"_

Florence had risen early to double-check everything, making sure that all was running smoothly. She had purposely looked ahead, and moved caches of things that the children would have guessed that their old Astronomy professor wouldn't have just left lying around—bottles of dreamwater and some old coins. She decided that those objects would keep them busy—Fred and George were coming, she knew. They were rowdy, but sensible. They wouldn't find anything that she didn't want them to.

As she sat on the roof of her Astronomy tower, hugging her knees and shivering in her terry robe--the collar of which was pulled down around her shoulders--Florence decided that she felt a bit guilty about dosing Harry with Ignorance. She had slipped a few drops of the potion into his omelet that morning, to keep his scar from twanging when she and Severus attempted to begin the first steps of the Everlast Potion.

She stood. Had she been able to view her image in that moment, she would have been pleased. All she knew was that (as the winds whipped the still-wet tips of her hair onto her bare back, stinging a little) she would have to pull today off perfectly in order for her plan to work.

Voldemort, she knew, was very smart. He could have been the next Enoch, but, like his predecessor, he was a lover of the flesh. Florence knew that was what would give him away in the end. She only wished there was another woman who would tempt him.

The Everlast Potion had a very old, very strange ritual attached to its usage. The drinker would have to be dragged before the Black God, and be proved worthy. Florence hadn't pointed that out to her master because he would have seen through her at once—she would have just been another one of those girls who were spying for Dumbledore, searching for the Dark Lord's weaknesses.

Over the ridge of the Alps she could see an orange glow in the eastern sky. Dawn. Severus would arrive soon, but a second arrival would be staged to trick the children into thinking that their professors weren't up to anything illegal.

The Ministry had outlawed the potion that they were attempting to make in 1238, after Breac the Brazen had managed to attract the attention of some Muggles, only a shepherd and his family who had casually glanced in her direction and seen cows flying past his hut and land the middle of a village.

Severus and Florence were going to hold the ceremony on Beltane, as it had to be, a little west of Stonehenge. They had read about why it was created, in Muggle studies, and she had been afraid. Severus' expression had been rather blasé.

In ancient, ancient times, the stones had been set to honor the raw force that was life itself. Terrible injustices, murders and slayings in the name of life were committed there. She shuddered at the memory of the picture that her teacher, Mrs. Leoni, had shown them.

_"Class…class, please listen up. I'm passing this picture around so you can see what ancient Muggles thought appropriate in those times. This "picture" is a re-creation of what had happened. There is actually a position at the Ministry, and wizards have looked into the past and seen this, take a look. After you've seen the picture, please turn to page 695 in your textbooks…" Mrs. Leoni was a stout woman, and always wore something red. She wasn't shaken by much. Florence tapped her foot against the floor, eager to see the picture. When she got a chance, she gasped and recoiled from the grisly scene in shock._

_--A pen of animals, all fat and healthy with glossy fur, stared silently at a man with a silver knife. The man's proportions were blocky, and straggly hair fell down to his shoulders. He grinned, revealing a mouth with strangely few teeth. He raised the knife, and brought it down again and again, his slashes wild. There was a terrible red fury in his eyes, and soon all of the animals in the pen lay dead in a mess of blood, bones and matted fur.—_

Now Florence was no longer sixteen, and she could handle these things. _Had_ to handle them, was more like it. Of course she felt sorry for the girls the MacNair and the animals that Voldemort had killed for their precious furs, limbs, horns, feathers, etc., but really now, in the long run it wouldn't happen anymore. It was better to make sure everything went smoothly, rather than put the whole plan in jeopardy for a few teenagers and beasts. She briefly considered spiking Voldemort's potion with the deadly plant Nightshade, but surely that wouldn't work. Nightshade had a very distinctive smell, and though Florence knew very well that Voldemort had nearly failed Herbology, she didn't want to take chances. That particular approach was far too predictable. She should let the Black God deal with Thomas Marvelo Riddle. After all, he had broken the oldest Law, one thousand times over.

Florence had once been told that humans were no better than animals. Should not the same laws apply to them all?

_Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your _

_cubs as they need, and ye can;_

_But not for the pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill man!_

(As told by Rudyard Kipling, "The Law of the Jungle.")

She sighed. From beasts men came, and to beasts man could return. In Florence's opinion, men were already beyond redemption.

--

Harry was sitting in front of the main fireplace, staring at the fire. Every few minutes a log would slip and sparks would be thrown up into the chimney, only to spiral down again as lackluster pieces of ash. As he sat alone, feeling blissfully unaware, his thoughts turned to his parents.

Why did Voldemort _want_ to kill Lily and James? When he thought about it, he remembered Voldemort's words—"Step aside, girl, step _aside."_ From what Harry had heard about The Dark Lord, he knew that leniency was not his strong suit. _Why _would Voldemort have spared Lily?

He sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Deciding that he was too close to the fire, he moved across the room into a cushioned window seat.

Outside, lush grasses had turned purple, making the mountainsides flush a deep, craggy lavender. They swayed gently in the wind as Harry watched. It was so peaceful in the Alps that Harry momentarily forgot everything that had been going on at the moment.

The Ministry had told the truth about Bertha Jorkin's death—murdered by You-Know-Who. But they had neglected to mention that Peter Pettigrew had led her to his master—it would have been politically harmful to Fudge's campaign to rescind Pettigrew's First-Class Order of Merlin. The current Minister's leadership skills left much to be desired.

Harry shook his head, as much to clear it as to show his lack of enthusiasm where it came to Fudge's handling of the situation.

He sat up quickly, because the fire had just roared up to an unbelievable height and turned a shade of sparkly emerald.

_Green and copper don't mix,_ Harry thought ruefully as the one of the Weasley twins emerged from the fire, head first. A moment later Fred and George both stepped out of the fireplace, followed by Ron and Hermione. All of the newcomers were rendered speechless for a few moments by the surroundings. Then Hermione broke the silence.

_"Wow_, Harry! I had no _idea_ that wizards live like this! I can see why you wanted to stay here, rather than go to the Weasley's…"

"So can I," Ron said darkly, a sullen tone in his voice. He took comments about like this very harshly, and from what Harry could discern, would use this against Hermione all year. Quickly, he stepped in before anyone could say anything more.

"I sure hope you two won't be at each other's throats like you were last year. I'd hate to have to ignore you both." He glared at his two best friends.

Reluctantly, Ron shot a last glare at Hermione (who was tapping her foot against the floor and staring defiantly in the opposite direction) and addressed Harry.

"What have you done here, so far? It looks like a pretty interesting place. Like the library. Then you realize the most useful thing to do by far is _learn_." He cut off Hermione's playful protests with a shake of his head. Slightly shocked, Harry realized that they were flirting.

_That's what you get for neglecting your best friends all summer,_ he thought regretfully. _They move on with their lives, and say that's what you would've wanted them to do._

Fred and George were holding a clandestine little meeting a few meters away from the trio of soon-to-be 5th years. There was a definite change in their moods from when Harry had last seen them. Now that they had had a summer with a thousand galleons at their complete disposal, the twins had obviously done some inventing. They had new robes, and walked with a purpose. If you considered the purpose you might be more careful around the redheaded boys. For their last year at Hogwarts, they had planned something a little like the Spectacular at the end of a light show—a little bit of research done, a whole lot of fireworks. Out of respect to Professor Sinastra they hadn't bought any with them, but the temptation had been nearly overwhelming.

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked over to the twins. Ron couldn't help but to bend down and brush the tips of his fingers against the soft, midnight-blue carpeting that matched the (almost) genetic marker of a Sareni—the eyes. Had he thought a little bit about it, and looked at his father's family tree, he would have discovered that his great-great-great-great grandfather had been one, which explained the twins' eyes.

"So…" George began, dragging out the vowel. "Young Harry, If I may be so bold as to ask…how's your summer been going?"

"Very well," the younger boy said automatically. "Actually, I've just been loafing around. It's great, to be able to play Quidditch and not have Wood nagging you at every other turn."

"Speaking of Wood, we, er, _I_ heard from Angelina that Wood is going to play for England." Said Fred, flushing slightly at his mistake.

Ron grimaced. "About time we got a decent Keeper. We were _slain_ by Luxembourg and all because of that stupid oaf that they _dared_ to call a _Keeper_—"

"Oh, not you _too_, Fred!" Hermione said, joining in. Harry secretly rejoiced. She had found a way to counter all this "boring" Quidditch talk. She continued. "First Percy, always up in his room scrawling notes to Penelope, and now you and Angelina will be just like…" Hermione laughed as Fred took a playful swipe at her.

"I never!" Fred protested indignantly. He mock-pouted, absurdly sticking out his lower lip and folding his arms over his chest. "People in love are boring."

"By the way…" Harry interjected. He was feeling a bit woozy. Could this be an effect of his scar? "Sirius Black, or _Mr. Padfoot,_ is here. Remember he helped write the Marauder's Map."

"Where _is_ he?" George managed to say. "I mean, he did—he _wrote…_"

"I imagine he's still asleep. He's not as thin as he was, but he…" Harry trailed off, his words made thick by his tongue, which now felt as though it were made of lead.

Their Astronomy professor was wearing a terry robe laced to the floor, which she self-consciously pulled over her her shoulders in response to the stares of the assorted teenagers in her living room.

"If you want something, ask one of the house elves. I have to make a potion, I'll be in the uh, _lower levels_ if your life is in danger. Don't go into the crypt unless you _really_ need me. Just wake Sirius if you are lost, Harry can show you where he's at."

She turned to Harry. "Why don't you start with a tour? I'm sure your friends would like to see the mansion. Don't touch anything that your senses say not to touch. See you later."

"By the way," Florence added, seemingly as an afterthought. "Professor Snape will be here in the afternoon, around three o'clock. I'd steer clear of him if I were any of you." She left.

"Has he been coming here a lot, Snape?" Ron asked.

"Not that _I_ know of," Harry said truthfully. "All I can say is that if he was, Sinastra's done a pretty good job of keeping the two of them—Sirius and Snape—away from each other. Elsewise, I would've heard them shouting at each other."

He neglected to mention all that rushed into his head after he said that. It came back to him briefly, as though he were there—the rift between them, Lily and Narcissa's friendship torn apart, Florence literally gluing her face to any book that happened to come her way, and her duel with McClellan that had left him nearly dead. It was bad enough, having to live with Voldemort and Pettigrew after him, and it wouldn't hurt to forget how James had almost lost his girlfriend to Snape (an arranged marriage by wizarding relatives Petunia Dursley had never known about.)

--

Meanwhile, Professor Sinastra was standing on the open railing of the second-floor balcony, and leaned casually over the wooden railing. She was waiting for Severus Snape, her one-time friend and ally. She sighed. Severus had once been a carefree, fun-loving boy, but those days were gone. Now all anyone (excepting herself and Dumbledore, of course) ever saw past the intimidatating exoskeleton.

The sun had risen and the sky was a fiery orange, which was rapidly turning to a brilliant morning blue. Florence looked at her watch. It was only 7:30. Glancing up, she was startled to see a black shape flying straight toward her.

She didn't stop to think. Plunging her hand into her robe, she drew her wand and opened her mouth, then recognized the imposing figure before her.

Severus had brought the broom to an graceful stop before his colleague. He hovered effortlessly above her, then jumped off of the Firebolt and landed neatly onto the railing beside Florence. It happened so quickly that she wasn't quite sure of what had taken place until he spoke.

"Have you found a place suitably far enough away, that we can pick vervain at the last minute?" He looked at her mildly. "_Thomas_ will be most displeased if you don't. The next meeting's in two weeks."

He was all business. Florence tried hard not to think of who may or may not be listening to their conversation. She quickly stepped in before anyone could eavesdrop.

"Why don't we go down to the Crypt and talk? You can quiz me there, and we can work on the potion." If he wanted to be cynical, she could be blunt. "But you'll have to hide yourself somehow, and dodge Sirius Black, the Weasley twins, Ron, Harry and Hermione."

Snape frowned, and Florence resisted the urge to say, _It takes seventy-two muscles to frown, but only fourteen to smile._ As it was, the corner of his mouth then twitched upward. "What is it with you, woman? Do you collect Gryffindors or something?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I wanted every single Weasley currently in existence to pose for the future wax museum." She sighed. "No, silly. I wanted to seem as though I had Harry's best interests in mind."

As an answer, Snape waved his wand over his head and turned into a long black shadow which followed her into the main house. It took approximately three agonizing minutes to get down to the basement level, and two more in order to reach the room Florence had wanted to use.

As soon as Snape materialized, Florence shut the door with a snap and placed warding charms on the door and windows. Anyone could be listening. And for further insurance, she and Severus each swallowed a few drops of the Silvertongue Potion, which would convince anyone listening that they were being truly earnest. They hadn't tested it on Voldemort yet—it wouldn't pay to be caught like that.

For the next few hours, they were not interrupted. The silence was deafening. While Severus added the beginning ingredients to the Everlast and Florence busied herself looking up spells in _Shape Changing_ and _Ways of the Immortals._

--

The assorted Gryffindors found Padfoot in the library, his head cushioned in a pillowesque-looking book. He may not have woken up, but Fred and George couldn't stop telling each other to be quiet so that Sirius could get some sleep.

The former convict gasped and sat up straight, feeling for his wand. When he saw it was only the children, he sighed and, smiled.

The twins gaped at him, completely lost for words.

Harry began to recount his misadventures for the Weasleys once again, some of the pain having been dulled by the passage of time. When he mentioned the Marauder's Map and how Moody had used it to kill his father, Sirius gasped and swore a blue streak.

"Harry, that Map…oh no, what have I _done_?" Everyone heard the shock in his voice and stared at him, waiting for a full explanation.

"The Marauder's Map, when it says _Aiding Magical Mischief Makers_ we **meant** it! Did you ever get into trouble after you looked at it?"

"Not that I can remember…" Harry said slowly.

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed, and turned bright red when Sirius turned to look. "Remember when we left for the first Hogsmeade trip? You weren't going to go, but you did after Fred and George gave you the Map!"

The twins simultaneously began to blame each other.

"Fred, _you_ were the one who suggested it!"

"Well, _you—_"

Sirius held up a hand. "Stop, stop. I can't work on an empty stomach. Harry, do you want to get the Map so I can check on something?"

Harry walked slowly to his room and fetched the Map. When he got it to Sirius, the ex-convict snatched the ragged piece of parchment away and pointed his new wand at it.

_"I solemnly swear I am up to no good and will work mischief without the help of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs."_

Once again, the letters formed and within seconds, a map of the Sareni mansion appeared on the paper, in a special golden ink. Sirius blushed. No one commented.

Hermione leaned forward to locate Professor Sinastra. "She's in the Crypt, along with…that's strange. I could've _sworn_ this said Severus Snape a few minutes ago."

"Lemme see that." Sirius said, pulling the map towards him. Hermione looked surprised at Sirius's tone of voice—it was almost a snarl.

"Yes. Yes indeed." There was a strange look in his eyes. "Let's see what they're up to." He walked in the apparent direction of the Crypt. Fred and George followed.

Hermione appeared distressed. "But Sinastra said not to go unless your life was in _danger…_" She whispered to Harry and Ron, wringing her wrists together.

Until We Meet Again,

Alliyah

A/N -- The story thus far was written pre-OOtP, in early 2002. My apologies for anything that may be out of place.


	5. Army

The Downfall of Lord Voldemort 

****

_By_

_Satrios/Birrmagnur_

_Chapter III_

_"Army"_

_Harry stood in the center of a circle of Death Eaters. He noticed that a few more, and rather shorter members of the crowd seemed to be there for the first time. It was obvious to him that they were, for they looked around at the elders, who were placed on the opposite side of Voldemort, closer to him than the newcomers._

_Before anyone could address him, Voldemort stepped forward._

_"My servants," he hissed, and Harry, with the beginnings of terror in him, could see saliva dripping unappetizingly from the Dark Lord's fangs. _

_"I would like to introduce to you my newest creations," he paused there, supposedly for dramatic effect._

_Voldemort then threw back his head and made a series of noises, which sounded rather like he was choking. And behind them, in the mist of the Dark Forest, something could be seen emerging from the late summer foliage._

_At first Harry thought it was a deer. However, with the thrill of horror he realized that its legs were impossibly long, and reversed from the normal direction a deer's legs would have been. It was covered with a black, rubberlike hide and its mouth stretched from ear to ear. It opened it, revealing fangs similar to Voldemort's. Harry also noted that its head was strangely round. One of the smaller figures in the circle made a noise, and Harry realized that it was Draco Malfoy._

_Voldemort's attention, though, was not on his Death Eaters, but on the creature emerging from the woods. He made strange clucking noises, and it trotted up to its master._

_"Friends," Voldemort addressed the circle, "This is a Blackfang. One of several hundred I have manufactured. It is a Dark creature, from beyond the reaches of Death. Enslaved inside its decaying heart is a human soul. Well, formerly human. Its only desire now is to drink the lifeblood of any wizard without the Dark Mark. They are invisible to the eyes of Muggles."_

_He paused._

_"Each of you must learn to control these creatures, lest they turn upon you. I will have another creature for you, the next time I call."_

_"That will be all for now."_

_The Death Eaters Apparated, one by one, beginning with those closest to Voldemort, until they were all gone._

_Voldemort bent down to the creature at his side. "Is Harry Potter here?" Voldemort questioned. The creatures hissed and clacked, which seemed to be a chilling affirmative._

_"Good," Voldemort whispered. "Find him."_

Harry woke with a start.

"Harry?" This is getting to be a routine with you." Sirius had splashed water on his face. "You fainted."

"Sirius," Harry gasped, the cold, nameless fear of the animal still in him. "You saved my life."

"Huh?" Sirius asked.

Harry sat up, and pushed his glasses up past the bridge of his nose. All attention in the room was focused upon him, yet he did not care. Looking up, he said firmly, "Voldemort's got a new weapon, and he's teaching his Death Eaters how to use it."

"Great," Sirius said grimly, standing. "It's time to call the Order."


End file.
